


Wolf Sitter Extraordinaire: Number Tag

by ThomE_Gemcity_06



Series: Wolf Sitter Extraordinaire! [1]
Category: Supernatural, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, Drama, Family Issues, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, dog-sitting, job search, kid!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 19:45:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9563690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThomE_Gemcity_06/pseuds/ThomE_Gemcity_06
Summary: Dean's strapped for a cash and being a kid, the only thing he can get a job as, is a dog-sitter. Of course, it's more complicated than that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AU. Includes: preteen!Dean, Fraser, Ray Vecchio, Diefenbaker; with mentions of 8 year-old Sammy and drunk!John. Includes an underlining of abuse (between the lines)!

_"DOG SITTER NEEDED_   
_CALL # BELOW…"_

"Simple enough," Dean said, tearing a number strip from the page stapled to the poster board outside the post office. He needed the money; dad couldn't seem to find a job in a shop; Sammy had school (despite his kid brother being in a home, he still got to visit); and they had to pay to stay in the stupid motel room--and then there was the alcohol. He knew that it'd probably only pay twenty-bucks or so, but it was something.

Dean found the first payphone on his way back and slipped in two quarters. These things gave him the shudders, all the germs and the _smell_ ; his mind not able to help run through the things that could have caused it. He held the receiver with the cuff of his jacket and made sure that it didn't physically touch his face before he punched in the number with a knuckle.

It rang so many times that Dean was about to hang up, but finally someone did-- and he wasn't that pleasant sounding either. Dean didn't want to sit a dog that belonged to an asshole because chances were the dog was one too.

" _Yeah, Vecchio!"_

"Uh, I'm calling about the dog-sitting job." Dean informed him.

" _Of course you are. Hang on a sec. Fraser!" the guy shouted._

Dean winced at the volume of it and waited.

" _Hello_?" it was a new voice, and definitely not as loud.

_"_ Yes, my name is Dean and I was calling about the dog-sitting job." Dean said in his most professional, adult voice.

_"Yes. My name is Constable Benton Fraser_." The man said.

"Constable?" Dean asked, trying not to sound nervous. Did he just call a cop? Dad was going to pissed -- _avoid the police._

" _Well, yes. I'm with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police_." Fraser informed him. _"My address is..."_

Canadian police? Well, he didn't have any pull here, did he? This was America. Unless that Vecchio was a cop or something, but what were the chances of that? Crap! He had to get out of this; if dad ever found out... Dean quickly hung up the phone, stuffing the piece of paper in his pocket and backed from the phone. So dog sitting wasn't the way to go, he couldn't get personal-- face-to-face was not good; and he may have choose this because he always wanted a dog but could never have one.

Dean stuffed his hands into his pockets and backed away from the payphone, he'd just have to find something else. He sat on the bench near the booth, he _needed_ to find something.

0-0

"Oh," Fraser shook his head as he handed the phone back to Vecchio.

"So?" Vecchio asked, taking the phone back. "Did you find someone?"

"He hung up," Fraser told him.

"Of course he hung up,"

Fraser just looked at him.

Vecchio shook his head. "You can't tell everyone you say 'hi' to that you're a cop, Fraser. That sounded like a kid, put that together with the fact that you're a cop… he's not going to want to baby-sit your dog."

"He's a half-wolf."

"Fine. But that doesn't change the fact of the matter."

"I don't think it was that, Ray."

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but what then?"

"Well, it wasn’t only right after I told him that I was a Constable, it was after I told him my address. He waited, like he was thinking. He needed this, Ray. I could here it in his voice."

"Oh, not this again! Listen to me, Fraser. That kid does not need your help, he is not in any trouble. Not every person you come across is!"

"I don't know, Ray. I've had ads up all around to find someone to look after Dief for months now, and that was the first call I got."

"Well, your poster isn't that inviting."

"Dean called," Fraser said in contradiction.

"Oh, so it's Dean now?"

"Well, I think it's safe to assume that has always been his name."

Vecchio shook his head again in exasperation. "And if you do plan on pursuing this, how do you plan on finding this kid?"

"Well, from Dean's tone of voice I can depict that he is mid-puberty--"

"That's gross, Fraser!"

"It's simple anatomy, Ray. He's probably twelve or thirteen. In the background I heard cars and passer-bys, but it wasn't as busy as it is on the street like we are on now. The only place that I put a flyer where there was minimal activity but more of a chance that someone responsible would find it, is the post office"

"And that is where we're going, isn't it?" Vecchio deadpanned.

"Well, that's where _I'm_ going..."

Vecchio growled, "Just-- get in!"

0-0

Dean couldn't come up with anything else, he'd been sitting here for nearly an hour-- he already had a paper route and he only got money for that at his end of the week deliveries. He really hadn't seen any other dog-sitting posters around, he hunted for them, but that Constable's was the only one. He thought about putting up an ad of his own, for like babysitting or something, but he couldn't risk someone knowing his address. So now Dean was considering calling the Constable back; if he didn't draw any sort of attention to himself, then it would be fine. But he'd already fudged that up, hadn't he-- with hanging up?

"Why are we even here?" someone voiced a little ways down the street.

"You don't have to be here." Said another voice. "Oh, excuse me?"

"Yeah, how can I help, sir." Said a new, older man.

"I was wondering if you seen a young boy around here? He might've taken a number from this flyer?"

Dean tensed.

"Oh, yeah. There's this kid that comes around here a couple times a week looking at the flyers. Blond kid, freckles. He was here not long ago."

"Thank you kindly."

"No problem. Actually, he's right over there."

"See, Ray?"

"Fine. But that doesn't mean anything," said the first voice.

Dean sucked in a breath as he heard boots approach him. It was the two guys from the phone. " _Cops_ ," he breathed, and panicked. He glanced down at the post office and sure enough, a _cop_ and the royal-guy where headed straight for him. He freaked out, he bolted.

"Wait!" Fraser called.

"I told you!" Vecchio told him.

"Dief, go!" Fraser commanded, taking off.

Diefenbaker barked before he took off, rounding the corner after Dean.

Dean was like a jackrabbit. He knew how to run and he was fast, dodging around people and turning corners without even slowing down.

Fraser was having trouble keeping up. This kid was good, like he'd done this before. He was small and he disappeared right into the crowd of people. He had no hint where Dean was going, so he couldn’t risk going high or he'd lose the boy, all he could do was follow Dief.

Dean had no idea where he was going, his brain was too panicked. What if he got caught? What would dad do? These were the legit cops, and he heard a dog. A fricken dog! Was this the one that he was going to sit, the one that sounded like it was going to tear his arm off? And because now that he was freaking about the dog, he turned a corner that wasn't a corner at all, but instead it was an alley. 

He was cornered.

His back was against the wall and he pulled out his Swiss Army knife, flicking out his blade. "Stay!" he shouted at the dog.

Dief had already stopped though, halfway down the alley. A few seconds later, Fraser came, stopping next to his companion-- not as out of breath as Vecchio was when he finally arrived.

"Don't come an further!" Dean told them, he held the knife at the ready; his arm crooked out in front of him, the blade not held straight out but instead at an angle, ready to either stab or slash at a moments notice.

Fraser knew just by that that Dean had done and probably used that knife before. "There's no need for that, Dean." He told the kid in a calm voice.

"See," Vecchio said. "He'd just a punk!"

"Ray!" Fraser reprimanded.

"What? Look at him." He made a gesture at Dean.

Dean's eyes narrowed at him with hatred. "I didn't do anything!"

"I know," Fraser agreed.

"Then why'd you chase after me? Huh?" his eyes flickered to Diefenbaker who sat there like nothing was going on at all, just staring at him.

"We just wanted to talk." Fraser told him.

" _You did,"_ Vecchio muttered under his breath.

Fraser didn’t even look at him.

"About what?" Dean asked suspiciously.

"About dog-sitting," Fraser smiled.

Dean brows drew together. "Firstly, I want to point out that _he_ is not a _dog_ ," he gestured at Diefenbaker. "But a _wolf_. False advertising,"

"He has a point there, Benny." Vecchio agreed.

"Well, um, yes. He's half-wolf. My partner was actually the one that insisted that I put that up on the flyer." Fraser gave Vecchio a look.

Vecchio made a face.

"I don't care for you excuses." Dean told him. "Don't you understand what someone hanging up on you means?"

"He's from Canada," Vecchio helped out.

"I don't care where he's from! You have no right to track me down when I've done nothing wrong." Dean protested.

"You have a knife," Vecchio pointed out.

"That's not against the law," Dean said. "It also has a cork screw and nail file."

"You're threatening police officers."

"Really?" Dean feigned ignorance. "I don't see any identification, you didn't announce yourselves."

"Don't play stupid, kid. You know exactly who we are."

"I do?" Dean was confused.

"He does have a point, Ray." Fraser had to agree.

Vecchio looked at him.

"We didn't announce ourselves; for all he knows, we are a couple of strange men who have now cornered him." This kid was smart, smarter than the average 12 year-old.

"He knows exactly who we are!" Vecchio told him.

Dean did know that this Vecchio guy was a cop, he could spot them a mile away-- he had a short temper and yelled a lot, it was a wonder if this guy closed any cases; maybe that was why he was partnered with a Canadian. Dean shook himself internally, he didn't care; he just needed to get out of here. If these two arrested him and then called his dad... Dean felt a trill of fear go through him at that.

Fraser didn't miss it either and he kept an even closer eye on the boy. It was fear, but he knew enough to know that it wasn't of them.

"Why aren't you in school?"

Fraser heard Vecchio ask and turned his attention to that.

"It's _lunch_ ," Dean snapped out.

"It is lunch, Ray." Fraser supported the kid.

"You're not helping," Vecchio muttered. He turned back to Dean, "Why do you need money anyway? Don't you have allowance or something?"

Dean clenched his jaw for a moment. "Not everyone has the privilege."

Vecchio gave a grunt. "To buy drugs or beer or something."

"That's stuff _poison_!" Dean yelled with such vehemence that he took a step forward and his knife jerked through the air.

Diefenbaker growled low in his throat at the action.

Dean looked at him for a second before he lowered the knife a fraction.

"There's no need for the knife, Dean." Fraser tried again.

"Why are you after me?" Dean asked.

"We're not after you," his tone was gentle.

"Then why'd you run after me?"

"You hung up," Fraser told him.

"That meant that I was no longer interested," Dean told him.

"You threw out the number?" Fraser asked.

"Yes," Dean lied.

He was good too, but Fraser could tell that Dean had to force himself to not allow his eyes to flicker-- he was a liar.

"Then you're free to go," Fraser told him.

Dean just looked at him suspiciously.

"What?!" Vecchio turned to Fraser.

"He's free to go. As he had said before, he's done nothing wrong." Fraser told the detective. He turned his gaze back to Dean. "Do you need a ride?"

Dean was still looking at him with suspicion but he shook his head. "It's fine," his voice was hard.

"Alright," Fraser nodded and stepped to the side, making a 'go ahead' gesture. 

Dean's eyes flickered between him, Vecchio and then Dief, calculating if this was a fib or not and if it was, what his chances were of escaping. After a moment he flicked his knife closed and put it in his pocket along with the number tag. He took a few steps forward, testing, baiting. Neither Mountie nor Detective moved and he took a few more steps, sliding along the alley wall. He was extra careful when passing the wolf, but the canine made no move either, just followed him with a chocolate gaze. Now passed the wolf, he just had to pass Fraser. Dean kept his gaze on the man, trying to read him; it didn't go over well. Fraser wasn't loud like the other guy, his expression and eyes were open, he was friendly, truthful, actually treated him like an adult despite him being twelve-- it was rather disarming. He was at the mouth of the alley now, Fraser’s gaze glued to his.

"The job is still available," Fraser told him.

Dean didn't say anything for a moment as his gaze flickered between Fraser's waiting face and Diefenbaker's. He knew that it was a jibe at him, and the Mountie was making it known that he knew that Dean still had the number in his pocket. He didn't comment and instead pursed his lips as he disappeared around the corner. Dad couldn't find out about this-- ever.

"That was just a waste of time!" Vecchio said.

Fraser turned to him. "Well, not really, Ray."

"Yeah? How's that?" Vecchio asked.

Fraser licked his lips. "I think we'll be seeing Dean again. Don't you think, Dief?" he looked to the wolf.

Dief barked in agreement.

0-0

 


End file.
